We'll Meet Again
by CorinneStark
Summary: This is inspired by the new preview clip of the season premiere of Scandal. Sometimes fate has a way of sneaking up on you.
1. Prologue

_We'll meet again,  
Don't know where, don't know when,  
But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day._

_Keep smiling through,  
Just like you always do,  
Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds, far away_. – Vera Lynn

**A/N: Well, I didn't think it would be this soon for me to get inspired, but that new preview clip got my brain burning. ********When I saw the preview clip the song "We'll Meet Again" kept looping in my head. For those of you that don't know, this song plays over the last images of Stanley Kubrick's film "Dr. Strangelove: Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb." This is a classic movie about a series of mistakes that lead to WWIII. You can watch the last bit of that movie if you go to YouTube and type in "We'll Meet Again - Dr. Strangelove." I initially did this as a one-off, but now I've got a story that I'm thinking about. This will definitely be an alternative universe. Hope you stick around for the ride. **

Prologue:

She went to the safe and pulled out the 1989 Chateau Petrus Bordeaux. Last she looked it was priced at $6,000. Her father sent the bottle to her in the mail when she graduated from law school with a note that it was still young but that she should hold on to it as an investment. She found the bottle opener and a wine glass. She could hear the wine splash the sides of the bottle as she popped out the cork. She poured the wine almost to the top of the glass, which she knew was a no-no. She should have let it breathe. But what did it matter anymore? What did anything matter?

She moved a chair close to the window, slipped off her heels and propped her feet on the window seal. She took a sip of the wine and held it on her tongue. It was flamboyant and complex and she could almost taste chocolate covered raisins and cherry wood. _Damn, that's a good wine._

She took a larger swig as she watched the cars packed in the streets and people honking their horns insistently. Some people abandoned their cars and just started running, to where, she had no idea. A few people were fighting in the streets. She even saw a man pull out a gun and shoot someone else in the head. She took another sip of wine.

She took this office space for the view. It overlooked the White House. This was a perfect vantage point to watch it all go down. The White House lawn was swarming with military. They may not be saved, but they would make sure others were kept out. She wondered if Fitz was in the bunker by now. She hoped it was enough. She hoped that it would protect him.

She could have been saved at one point.

She had the Providence Key, the code that would have gotten her to a safe haven in case of a disaster. But she used it to meet with Fitz and Mellie and save her reputation instead. And she did. When she met Fitz and Mellie in that secured location and devised a plan to put her name back in the bottle, it worked. They all lied and said it wasn't her that had the affair with the President. They created another diversion and within a week she was back working on other people's problems. It was handled. She was still Olivia Pope, fixer extraordinaire.

Of course, that was the last time she was ever alone with Fitz. Because even if no one believed they had an affair, the rumors would always be there. So in order to combat them, they never saw each other personally again. She did see him once, at a fundraiser. He gave a speech, she couldn't remember what it was even about, but his eyes rarely left hers. She left before the meet and greet.

Abby and Quinn left the office about thirty minutes earlier when they realized that no one from the White House was going to come and rescue Olivia Pope. They hoped to find some way out of the city before the first strike. Harrison was out of town. His brother was getting married in New York. Maybe he would be safe, but she doubted it. New York was targeted too. Huck left last year. When he was finally reunited with his family he went so deep underground that she had no idea where he was. She imagined him and his family at some farm in the Midwest. He liked to grow things. Maybe they could survive the fallout.

She wondered what would have happened if she never used the Providence Key. Would she be in that bunker too? Her halo a little tarnished, but with Fitz? Or perhaps he never would have gotten re-elected and it would have been just the two of them at his ranch in Santa Barbara making love at the end of the world.

But she had made her choice. No use in thinking of what could have happened now.

Instead, she thought about the night they had made love in her apartment and the joy she felt. She wanted that to be her last memory.

She saw the multiple missiles appear low in the D.C. skyline. They almost looked like falling stars. Her last thought was of him saying hi to her in the shower.

She saw a bright light flash and felt the glass pierce her skin.

* * *

_So will you please say hello,  
To the folks that I know,  
Tell them I won't be long,  
They'll be happy to know that as you saw me go  
I was singing this song._

_We'll meet again,  
Don't know where, don't know when,  
But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day_. – Vera Lynn

They had little warning of the strike. The newly installed leader of the rogue nation broadcasted a pre-recorded tape about forty minutes before the missiles landed. As soon as it ended, the nuclear strike warning system lit up like a Christmas tree. This was really happening.

Fitz spent most of the forty minutes in the Situation Room. They launched the secret Strategic Defense system to try and intercept the weapons, but most of the counter-missiles did not hit their targets. They also launched their own arsenal against the enemy. Those sons of bitches would go down as well.

Teddy and his nanny were taken down to the bunker first. Mellie was back in California, where she was most of the time these days already planning her run for Governor. She would be taken to a secured location. Karen and Jerry would be as well. He didn't know if he would ever see any of them again. How long until it would it be safe to travel after a nuclear winter?

The Secret Service kept on urging him down to the shelter, but he refused to go until he knew she was safe. He had sent his some of his agents to get her first thing. It had taken a lot of precious time just for them to get out of the freaking building. Everything was in lock-down. The only people that were getting in were people with the Providence Key.

It was only ten minutes away by car, they had to get her.

Twenty minutes left.

Tom put his hand on Fitz's shoulder and told him they had to go. "Get your hands off me," he yelled as he physically pushed Tom away.

The agent raised both hands and backed away. "Sir, we've got exactly ten minutes. That's all the time we can afford. I _will_ physically remove you to the shelter at that time," Tom resolutely declared.

"Well, where the fuck are your boys? Why aren't they doing their job," Fitz asked sharply.

"I've been talking to them; they have been making their way towards her building. It's chaos out there, sir," Tom said apologetically.

Seventeen minutes.

Fourteen minutes.

At twelve minutes Tom received a phone call that made him turn white as a sheet. He spoke to a few agents around him before he turned to Fitz. "Sir, there was some confusion between the military and our agents. They never made it to her building, they are dead sir."

Fitz felt the pit of his stomach fall and all the blood drain from his face. He got up from his chair and tried to leave the room. He would goddamn get her himself. Tom blocked the exit. He punched Tom in the face and the agent staggered a bit before three other agents tackled Fitz to the ground. He threw one off of him and tried to get up when Tom joined the fray. The four agents restrained him while a nurse injected him with a tranquilizer.

"Olivia," he screamed. His face was red with every vein bulging, his blue eyes blood shot. He yelled her name once again before Tom knocked him out with a punch to the face.

* * *

_The days until the Inauguration were ticking by. She had insisted that they would stop before he became President. He played along, but he knew that they would never be over. He was taking a victory tour, going to the States that had the most impact and thanking his biggest contributors._

_She was right by his side the whole time. He could almost pretend that she was his real wife. What kind of coward was he to marry Mellie and not wait for her to show up?_

_After a particularly intense session of making love, she rested on his chest while he gently traced circles on her back. This felt so right. It was like the last piece of the puzzle that he spent a long time searching for. "This was meant to be." For a moment, he didn't know he spoke the words out loud._

_"What," she asked as she lifted her head, her face perplexed._

_"I mean, don't you feel it, Olivia?" His voice grew thick with emotion, "How can we end this? I feel like I have known you before, like I was supposed to have met you."_

_She looked at him, and smiled and placed a hand on his cheek. "Well, then you shouldn't worry, Fitz." Her face grew serious, and she gave him a kiss before adding, "If we've met before, then we'll just meet again."_

_She smiled again as he rolled on top of her and gave her another kiss._


	2. Nothing Else Matters

Chapter 1: Nothing Else Matters

_So close no matter how far  
Couldn't be much more from the heart  
Forever trust in who we are  
And nothing else matters – James Hetfield_

**A/N: To clear up some confusion. I had two chapters of this story that was going to be a one-shot. I have combined those chapters into one Prologue. This is the next chapter and where this story really gets off the ground. This story is about reincarnation. This is a post-apocalyptic reincarnation love story. Olivia definitely died in the first part. Fitz might have lived longer, but this story takes place years later. You might find out a little bit about what happened to him further in the story, but both of them as we knew them in Scandal are dead at this point. The idea behind reincarnation is that you keep coming back and sometimes you make the same mistakes and sometimes you learn from them until hopefully you reach ********stage**** of enlightenment. There is also the idea that there are people in your lives that you are connected to through eternity. You will find more than Olivia and Fitz in this story. I believe most of the characters in this story will have their Scandal counterparts. **

She could see it glimmering in the distance down the abandoned highway. It was a risk, she knew, but that shiny beacon could be valuable. The brown and white horse gave a nervous whinny before she reached down and scratched it behind its ears. "Shhhh, it's ok, horse," She never bothered giving the animal a name, even though it had been with her for several years now.

She adjusted her binoculars, hoping to get a better look. She began to get excited, in spite of herself. It might be a tanker. She hadn't seen one of those in nearly a year. It was almost too good to be true. Her hand automatically touched the handle of her shotgun strapped across her back. She hesitated, glancing back towards the path she had taken. Twitchy and Spin had taken the rover off in the opposite direction. This was their last major scavenger expedition until the spring. They did not have anything specific they were looking for this time. Sometimes it was the random searches that yielded the most bounty. Still, if they were going to make it to the Denver Territories before the passes closed, they needed to get a move on.

She brought her half-gloved hands to her mouth and warmed them with her breath. She rubbed her hands over her brown leather jacket. It was a sunny, cold day. The weather was definitely changing. Once again she regretted not grabbing that down jacket at that deserted mall in Trimbull. But Twitchy called for help, a rival scavenger had found and attacked her. Twitchy seemed to have a handle on the situation by the time she and Spin arrived. The young woman had plunged the knife in the chest of her attacker again and again, long after the heart stopped beating. Blood sprayed across her pale face and a mad gleam lingered in her dark brown eyes. They left in a hurry, not wanting to run into any of the dead man's friends if he had any.

Twitchy was a good asset, even though she wasn't altogether there sometimes. The brown haired young lady appeared innocent enough. In reality she had a keen intelligence and a knack with sharp instruments. Twitchy couldn't really say how old she was, but she was probably around sixteen when she first joined the group.

Spin was the quiet warrior. She could always depend on him to get her out of a pinch and do whatever was necessary. He was also the best mechanic she'd ever seen. Many towns and groups they had run into tried to recruit him for their own benefit. She knew that they were just wasting time, Spin was completely loyal.

Her group needed to grow. She had made a name for herself throughout the corridor for getting impossible tasks done. She was hired frequently by local leaders and municipalities to find a particular item or a person in the wastelands. She had to recruit new people soon in order to maintain her reputation. She could hear father's stern voice in her head, _"Your name is everything. Every day that you walk this Earth, think of the legacy you leave behind. Nothing else matters in this life. Nothing." _

Her team was definitely too small now. Lewis was killed outside of Tombstone. Fincher and Georgia left when they reached a ghost town called Flagstaff. The couple headed south. There was a part of her that couldn't believe Fincher abandoned the group. For quite awhile, he secretly pined for her. She could sense it and she did what she could to discourage it. When Georgia showed up, she pushed Fincher into her arms. Still, she was shocked when he told her they were leaving. She told Fincher that only a fool would believe the rumors that the south was some kind of promise land. Fincher just smiled and said, "Then I am a fool. I have to hope there is something more than this." She didn't say goodbye and turned her back when they headed down the road.

So Spin and Twitchy were all that remained. She thought for a moment of turning around and waiting for them. They had all agreed to meet first if any of them found something interesting.

_Well, I wouldn't know if it was worth anything unless I got a closer look_.She pulled out her shot gun and rested it on her lap as she kicked the horse to move forward. When she finally reached it, she slowed down her horse. Sure enough, it was a tanker. The body of the vehicle looked in pretty good condition. It probably was one of the last tankers coming out of Galveston before the Republic of Texas closed its oil refineries to outsiders. Spin might be able to even get the truck to work. The fuel could probably buy them passage into the Denver Territories, or at least get them there.

She pulled her horse up to the truck's cabin. A skeleton with half of its skull missing sat on the driver's side. The bones of his hands were curled around a handgun. She reached in and started to grab the gun, breaking fingers to get it. That's when the bullet hit her thigh. The horse bolted and suddenly she was dangling from the tanker's cabin door. Another bullet barely missed her head and shattered the side mirror, cutting her forehead with a shard. She landed on the ground with a thud. _Dammit, ambush. _

She scrambled for her shotgun, found it. A man with a gun rushed her and she had no time to get off the floor before she aimed and killed the man. Another bullet whizzed by her ear, nicking the lobe. She rolled underneath the truck. She tried to slow her breathing down, but the choking dust made it difficult. The shots stopped. She peered out from underneath the tire trying to find the other shooter. She thought she spotted someone at small rocky outcrop near the side of the road. She cursed herself for not checking that area first before approaching the tanker. She wiped the blood that streamed from her forehead away from her eyes with the back of her hand and used her binoculars to get a better look. She didn't know why he was waiting and not taking another shot. Then she looked at the tire. Of course, he didn't want to damage the tires. _He must be a bad shot._

She caught her breath and tried to relax. She brought the shotgun up to her chin, squinting with one eye. She took one more look through her binoculars before she positioned the gun again and fired. She heard a groan and then nothing. She got him.

She rolled out from the other side of the truck and tried to stand up. She screamed in pain and crumpled to the ground. She didn't see the other man approach before he kicked the gun away from her side. She tried to crawl to it using both of her elbows to compensate for her wounded leg. He grabbed the back of her jacket and pulled her towards him. He turned her around and placed his forearm on her neck, choking her. He was a large man, both in size and stature. His weight crushed her.

"You fucking bitch! You killed my men," His breath reeked and she could see that his teeth were mostly rotten. His beady little eyes flashed angrily at her. "Well, you're going to pay for this now. You are going to _wish_ you were dead." He groped her body while she reached for the knife strapped to her leg. She tried to move her leg and she screamed in pain from her thigh wound. "Oh, that's nice," the bastard laughed.

_It can't end like this,_ she thought. She would be the joke of the wasteland. The bad ass who thought she could do any job. The woman who made her name by getting out of impossible situations, raped and killed by some anonymous fat man on the side of the road would become a cautionary tale of hubris. No, she wouldn't allow it. Her name would remain legendary. _Nothing else matters in this life. Nothing._

She moved her leg closer to her hand. She could touch the very tip of the knife handle. _Just a little bit closer._ He started to unbuckle his pants. She nearly threw up, but it gave her the opportunity to grab the knife. Just as she was about to plunge the knife in his back, another gunshot rang out blowing the side of his chest away. He collapsed on her with a surprised look on his face. Dead.

She scrambled out from underneath him, holding the knife in a defensive position. She crawled under the tanker again, waiting, watching. The shooter approached. All she could see of him was black leather boots and jeans. He kicked the body of her attacker, making sure he was dead. He hesitated a moment, then squatted down. His head full of curly brown hair appeared under the tanker and he stared right at her.

"Are you ok," he asked with concern.

He had the bluest eyes she'd ever seen.

**A/N: Olivia in this story is surrounded by people she knew in her previous life although she doesn't know it. Twitchy is Quinn, Spin is Huck and Fincher is Stephen. And Mr. Blue Eyes, I think you can guess who he is. There will be more familiar faces making an appearance in this story. **


	3. Dissever My Soul

Chapter 3: Dissever my soul

But our love it was stronger by far than the love  
Of those who were older than we-  
Of many far wiser than we-  
And neither the angels in heaven above,  
Nor the demons down under the sea,  
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul  
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. - Edgar Allan Poe

She held her knife in front of her, ready to slash or stab if he got too close. She pressed her other hand into her thigh as she felt the blood escape her body. He really couldn't get a good look at her because the woman was half-hidden in the shadows underneath the tanker. She didn't respond to his question, so he added, "Look, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to know if you are ok." He held up both hands to show he put his weapon away.

"I'm fine," she grimaced. "You can go now." She waved him off dismissively with her knife before she muffled a grunt.

"No thank you, I take it? I just saved your ass," he shook his head in disbelief. The woman was injured, he could tell. Not that he could blame her for trying to hide how badly. Any sign of weakness in these parts could get you killed.

"You did _not_ save me. I was just about to kill him," she declared, irritated by the thought she might owe him. Gratitude led to unwanted exchange of favors.

His smile stretched across his face which had a three-day stubble. Small laugh lines appeared around his twinkling blue eyes. He couldn't be more than thirty and judging by his weathered-looking peach skin he spent a lot of time outdoors. "You had him just where you wanted him, huh?" He offered his hand out to her, but she did not take it, still holding her knife up.

"I'm pretty good with a knife," she challenged. "He was dead the moment I grabbed the handle. You just got lucky to get him first." A part of him was tempted to just walk away. If the woman thought she could take care of herself, well then let her and move on. He did not need another complication. Trying to take care of an injured person who didn't want his help was definitely a complication.

"My group should be by any minute now. I'll be fine here," she explained, sounding a little less hostile.

"Well, I guess I'll just wait here until they show up." The man moved from his squatting position and plopped his ass down, grabbing his knees in front of him. He had a clear view of the road as far as his eye could see. No one was coming. He turned around and looked the opposite way where he had seen a horse he presumed was hers run off. It would take awhile to get it. A trail of blood smeared on the ground indicated that the injury could be serious. "Where were you injured?"

She said nothing at first. In truth, she didn't know how long it would be before Twitchy and Spin made it back to her. By the time they figured out something had happened to her, it might be too late. The need for help finally overcame her leeriness of him. "My thigh. They shot my thigh." Her voice was sharp and clipped between her gritted teeth.

"OK, now you've got to let me see you. If they hit the right spot, you could bleed out." He reached out his hand again, and this time she took it, putting away her knife. As he pulled her out from under the truck, she groaned. He continued to hold her hand as he finally got a look at her. She was smaller than he initially thought. She was not weak despite her present condition; he could feel the strength of her grip. She was beautiful; her skin was a smooth chestnut color and she had high cheekbones and full lips. Her brown curly hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He stared into her large dark eyes and felt a strange sense of recognition. He felt a shock that went all through his body, almost like he had touched the wrong wire on a battery. He released her hand as if it burned and shook his head. _What's the matter with you?_

He finally looked at her thigh, her brown leather pants were covered in blood. "Look, I'm going to take my knife and cut your pants to take a look at the wound, ok?" She nodded her head and eyed him wearily as he retrieved a knife strapped underneath his shoulder. He tore the legging and looked at the gash. He reached behind him for his backpack and pulled out a canteen of water and poured it over the injury. He lifted her leg and saw that there was an exit wound. His fingers were soft but firm pressing around hole to see if there were any fragments. She sucked in her breath and held it, trying not to yell out. "Well, you're in luck, the bullet went straight through." He didn't think it hit a major artery; still, her bleeding hadn't stopped. He reached in the pack and found a shirt that he ripped apart and used for a tourniquet.

He put his backpack under her leg trying to keep it elevated. "I've got some supplies in my rover." He stood up and started to walk away. "I'm just going to get them and . . ."

"Wait," she said stopping him, her face looking puzzled "You've got a rover? And you are just by yourself?"

"For now," he answered quickly. "Don't worry, I'll be right back." He sprinted away to get the first aid kit. She started to feel uneasy again. You didn't just travel the wastelands by yourself in a rover. Not unless you wanted to get high jacked. Working vehicles were rare; the gas to make most of them run was even rarer. Maybe he didn't come alone. She looked at the dead man a few feet away. A cold wind from the north blew down, chilling her to the bone. She started to shiver.

When he came back, he found her with her eyes half-closed and shaking. She was going into shock. He nudged her awake and took off his jacket and put it over her. His hand accidently brushed the sides of her breasts and a completely inappropriate image crossed his mind. _Get out of the dirt, _he admonished himself. "I'm back. I've got a medical kit." He held up a steal rectangular box and waved it in the air. She opened her eyes wider and shook her head, like she was trying to keep awake. "Look, there's no two ways around this, you are going to need stitches to close the wounds. I've got a needle and thread in the box."

The woman shook her head, "No, no. No good. Have you ever even done this before?"

"Well, no," he confessed. "But I've repaired clothes and have had it done on me, so that must count for something, right?"

"Not much. Why don't we just leave it until my friends come? They'll take care of me." Spin knew how to break down a human body. She was sure he could help put it back together too.

The man didn't believe that she had any friends coming, but didn't voice his doubts about their existence. "Maybe they've ran into the same problems you have? Those bandages will only do so much good. What, are you afraid of a little needle," he ribbed her, smiling to counter the seriousness of the situation.

"I'm not afraid," she countered hotly, ego bruised a little.

"Good, here's some liquid courage, just in case." He handed her a flask. She once again decided to trust him, which was unusual for her. She needed help and she didn't have much choice in the matter. As she took a large swig she began coughing. It was vile, some kind of distilled moonshine, but it probably would do the trick. She drank fast until she could feel the effects of the alcohol. "Save a little," he cautioned. "I've got to use some of it for the wound." He spread out a blanket he had brought and lifted her on to it. She felt like a feather in his arms, easily blown away by a strong wind. He wasn't a religious man, but he silently asked whatever fates existed to make sure he did this right.

He poured the alcohol on her wound and she moaned. He worked steadily and quickly, trying to not let her cries of pain get to him as he focused on the task. She looked like she was going to pass out, but she kept her consciousness. "So tell me, what are you doing out here? Not much luck out her for individuals," he tried to distract her with a conversation.

She tried to focus on his words. "Not alone," she corrected him, finding it difficult to get the words out. "Just looking to get by. You?"

"Same. I guess that's all anyone is looking to do," He sounded a little wistful.

She studied his face. He looked completely focused at the task at hand. When she first saw his eyes, she had to admit, she almost got lost in them. There was something familiar about him, but she couldn't place it. She realized that she had put her life in his hands and didn't even know anything about him. She felt another wave of pain. She finally asked, "What's your name?"

"Fitz."

"Stupid name," she grunted.

"Hey, it's a family name," he said in mock offense. "What's yours?" When he was finished he wrapped her leg up, he noticed that she looked like she was about to pass out.

She could feel herself disconnecting with her body, almost like she was outside of it. She tried to shake her head to keep awake and replied, "Liviana Bishop."

A look of shock crossed his face. She wasn't surprised he knew her name; after all she did to gain her reputation across the wastelands. He shook his head and almost looked a little rueful when he said, "Liv Bishop, I've been looking for you. Did you know there's a bounty on your head?"

That was the last thing she heard before her consciousness faded.

**A/N: Well, what a coincidence, they have the same names! I decided to keep their basic names just to keep things straight for storytelling purposes.**


End file.
